Chapter IX

CHAPTER IX

Mrs. Rachel Lynde Is Properly Horrified

Anne had been a fortnight at Green Gables before Mrs.Lynde arrived to inspect her. Mrs. Rachel, to do herjustice, was not to blame for this. A severe and unseason-able attack of grippe had confined that good lady to herhouse ever since the occasion of her last visit to GreenGables. Mrs. Rachel was not often sick and had a well-defined contempt for people who were; but grippe, sheasserted, was like no other illness on earth and couldonly be interpreted as one of the special visitations ofProvidence. As soon as her doctor allowed her to put herfoot out-of-doors she hurried up to Green Gables, burstingwith curiosity to see Matthew and Marilla's orphan,concerning whom all sorts of stories and suppositions hadgone abroad in Avonlea.

Anne had made good use of every waking moment of that fortnight.Already she was acquainted with every tree and shrub about theplace. She had discovered that a lane opened out below the appleorchard and ran up through a belt of woodland; and she hadexplored it to its furthest end in all its delicious vagaries ofbrook and bridge, fir coppice and wild cherry arch, corners thickwith fern, and branching byways of maple and mountain ash.

She had made friends with the spring down in the hollow--that wonderful deep, clear icy-cold spring; it was setabout with smooth red sandstones and rimmed in by greatpalm-like clumps of water fern; and beyond it was a logbridge over the brook.

That bridge led Anne's dancing feet up over a woodedhill beyond, where perpetual twilight reigned under thestraight, thick-growing firs and spruces; the only flowersthere were myriads of delicate "June bells," those shyestand sweetest of woodland blooms, and a few pale, aerialstarflowers, like the spirits of last year's blossoms.Gossamers glimmered like threads of silver among the treesand the fir boughs and tassels seemed to utter friendly speech.

All these raptured voyages of exploration were made in theodd half hours which she was allowed for play, and Annetalked Matthew and Marilla halfdeaf over her discoveries.Not that Matthew complained, to be sure; he listened toit all with a wordless smile of enjoyment on his face;Marilla permitted the "chatter" until she found herselfbecoming too interested in it, whereupon she always promptlyquenched Anne by a curt command to hold her tongue.

Anne was out in the orchard when Mrs. Rachel came,wandering at her own sweet will through the lush, tremu-lous grasses splashed with ruddy evening sunshine; so thatgood lady had an excellent chance to talk her illness fullyover, describing every ache and pulse beat with suchevident enjoyment that Marilla thought even grippe mustbring its compensations. When details were exhaustedMrs. Rachel introduced the real reason of her call.

"I've been hearing some surprising things about you and Matthew."

"I don't suppose you are any more surprised than I am myself,"said Marilla. "I'm getting over my surprise now."

"It was too bad there was such a mistake," said Mrs.Rachel sympathetically. "Couldn't you have sent her back?"

"I suppose we could, but we decided not to. Matthewtook a fancy to her. And I must say I like her myself--although I admit she has her faults. The house seems adifferent place already. She's a real bright little thing."

Marilla said more than she had intended to say when she began,for she read disapproval in Mrs. Rachel's expression.

"It's a great responsibility you've taken on yourself,"said that lady gloomily, "especially when you've never hadany experience with children. You don't know much abouther or her real disposition, I suppose, and there's noguessing how a child like that will turn out. But I don'twant to discourage you I'm sure, Marilla."

"I'm not feeling discouraged," was Marilla's dry response."when I make up my mind to do a thing it stays made up.I suppose you'd like to see Anne. I'll call her in."

Anne came running in presently, her face sparkling withthe delight of her orchard rovings; but, abashed at findingthe delight herself in the unexpected presence of a stranger,she halted confusedly inside the door. She certainly was anodd-looking little creature in the short tight wincey dressshe had worn from the asylum, below which her thin legsseemed ungracefully long. Her freckles were more numerousand obtrusive than ever; the wind had ruffled her hatlesshair into over-brilliant disorder; it had never lookedredder than at that moment.

"Well, they didn't pick you for your looks, that's sureand certain," was Mrs. Rachel Lynde's emphatic comment.Mrs. Rachel was one of those delightful and popularpeople who pride themselves on speaking their mind withoutfear or favor. "She's terrible skinny and homely, Marilla.Come here, child, and let me have a look at you. Lawfulheart, did any one ever see such freckles? And hair as redas carrots! Come here, child, I say."

Anne "came there," but not exactly as Mrs. Rachelexpected. With one bound she crossed the kitchen floorand stood before Mrs. Rachel, her face scarlet with anger,her lips quivering, and her whole slender form tremblingfrom head to foot.

But Anne continued to face Mrs. Rachel undauntedly,head up, eyes blazing, hands clenched, passionateindignation exhaling from her like an atmosphere.

"How dare you say such things about me?" she repeatedvehemently. "How would you like to have such things saidabout you? How would you like to be told that you are fatand clumsy and probably hadn't a spark of imagination inyou? I don't care if I do hurt your feelings by saying so!I hope I hurt them. You have hurt mine worse than theywere ever hurt before even by Mrs. Thomas' intoxicatedhusband. And I'll NEVER forgive you for it, never, never!"

Stamp! Stamp!

"Did anybody ever see such a temper!" exclaimed the horrifiedMrs. Rachel.

"Anne go to your room and stay there until I come up,"said Marilla, recovering her powers of speech with difficulty.

Anne, bursting into tears, rushed to the hall door,slammed it until the tins on the porch wall outside rattledin sympathy, and fled through the hall and up the stairslike a whirlwind. A subdued slam above told that the doorof the east gable had been shut with equal vehemence.

"Well, I don't envy you your job bringing THAT up,Marilla," said Mrs. Rachel with unspeakable solemnity.

Marilla opened her lips to say she knew not what of apologyor deprecation. What she did say was a surprise to herselfthen and ever afterwards.

"You shouldn't have twitted her about her looks, Rachel."

"Marilla Cuthbert, you don't mean to say that you areupholding her in such a terrible display of temper as we'vejust seen?" demanded Mrs. Rachel indignantly.

"No," said Marilla slowly, "I'm not trying to excuse her. She'sbeen very naughty and I'll have to give her a talking to aboutit. But we must make allowances for her. She's never beentaught what is right. And you WERE too hard on her, Rachel."

Marilla could not help tacking on that last sentence,although she was again surprised at herself for doing it.Mrs. Rachel got up with an air of offended dignity.

"Well, I see that I'll have to be very careful what I sayafter this, Marilla, since the fine feelings of orphans,brought from goodness knows where, have to be consideredbefore anything else. Oh, no, I'm not vexed--don't worryyourself. I'm too sorry for you to leave any room for angerin my mind. You'll have your own troubles with that child.But if you'll take my advice--which I suppose you won'tdo, although I've brought up ten children and buriedtwo--you'll do that `talking to' you mention with a fair-sized birch switch. I should think THAT would be the mosteffective language for that kind of a child. Her tempermatches her hair I guess. Well, good evening, Marilla.I hope you'll come down to see me often as usual. But youcan't expect me to visit here again in a hurry, if I'mliable to be flown at and insulted in such a fashion.It's something new in MY experience."

Whereat Mrs. Rachel swept out and away--if a fat woman whoalways waddled COULD be said to sweep away--and Marilla witha very solemn face betook herself to the east gable.

On the way upstairs she pondered uneasily as to whatshe ought to do. She felt no little dismay over thescene that had just been enacted. How unfortunate thatAnne should have displayed such temper before Mrs. RachelLynde, of all people! Then Marilla suddenly became awareof an uncomfortable and rebuking consciousness that shefelt more humiliation over this than sorrow over thediscovery of such a serious defect in Anne's disposition.And how was she to punish her? The amiable suggestion ofthe birch switch--to the efficiency of which all of Mrs.Rachel's own children could have borne smarting testimony--did not appeal to Marilla. She did not believe she couldwhip a child. No, some other method of punishment mustbe found to bring Anne to a proper realization of theenormity of her offense.

Marilla found Anne face downward on her bed, cryingbitterly, quite oblivious of muddy boots on a cleancounterpane.

"Anne," she said not ungently.

No answer.

"Anne," with greater severity, "get off that bed thisminute and listen to what I have to say to you."

Anne squirmed off the bed and sat rigidly on a chairbeside it, her face swollen and tear-stained and her eyesfixed stubbornly on the floor.

"This is a nice way for you to behave. Anne! Aren't youashamed of yourself?"

"She hadn't any right to call me ugly and redheaded,"retorted Anne, evasive and defiant.

"You hadn't any right to fly into such a fury and talk theway you did to her, Anne. I was ashamed of you--thoroughly ashamed of you. I wanted you to behave nicelyto Mrs. Lynde, and instead of that you have disgraced me.I'm sure I don't know why you should lose your temperlike that just because Mrs. Lynde said you were redhairedand homely. You say it yourself often enough."

"Oh, but there's such a difference between saying athing yourself and hearing other people say it," wailedAnne. "You may know a thing is so, but you can't helphoping other people don't quite think it is. I suppose youthink I have an awful temper, but I couldn't help it.When she said those things something just rose right up inme and choked me. I HAD to fly out at her."

"Well, you made a fine exhibition of yourself I must say.Mrs. Lynde will have a nice story to tell about youeverywhere--and she'll tell it, too. It was a dreadful thingfor you to lose your temper like that, Anne."

"Just imagine how you would feel if somebody told you to yourface that you were skinny and ugly," pleaded Anne tearfully.

An old remembrance suddenly rose up before Marilla.She had been a very small child when she had heard oneaunt say of her to another, "What a pity she is such a dark,homely little thing." Marilla was every day of fifty beforethe sting had gone out of that memory.

"I don't say that I think Mrs. Lynde was exactly right insaying what she did to you, Anne," she admitted in a softertone. "Rachel is too outspoken. But that is no excuse forsuch behavior on your part. She was a stranger and anelderly person and my visitor--all three very good reasonswhy you should have been respectful to her. You wererude and saucy and"--Marilla had a saving inspiration ofpunishment--"you must go to her and tell her you arevery sorry for your bad temper and ask her to forgive you."

"I can never do that," said Anne determinedly and darkly."You can punish me in any way you like, Marilla. You canshut me up in a dark, damp dungeon inhabited by snakesand toads and feed me only on bread and water and I shallnot complain. But I cannot ask Mrs. Lynde to forgive me."

"We're not in the habit of shutting people up in darkdamp dungeons," said Marilla drily, "especially as they'rerather scarce in Avonlea. But apologize to Mrs. Lyndeyou must and shall and you'll stay here in your room untilyou can tell me you're willing to do it."

"I shall have to stay here forever then," said Annemournfully, "because I can't tell Mrs. Lynde I'm sorry Isaid those things to her. How can I? I'm NOT sorry. I'msorry I've vexed you; but I'm GLAD I told her just what I did.It was a great satisfaction. I can't say I'm sorry when I'mnot, can I? I can't even IMAGINE I'm sorry."

"Perhaps your imagination will be in better workingorder by the morning," said Marilla, rising to depart."You'll have the night to think over your conduct in andcome to a better frame of mind. You said you would tryto be a very good girl if we kept you at Green Gables, butI must say it hasn't seemed very much like it this evening."

Leaving this Parthian shaft to rankle in Anne's stormybosom, Marilla descended to the kitchen, grievouslytroubled in mind and vexed in soul. She was as angry withherself as with Anne, because, whenever she recalled Mrs.Rachel's dumbfounded countenance her lips twitched withamusement and she felt a most reprehensible desire to laugh.